Love in Preparation
by Magi Silverwolf
Summary: There was no greater height of joy than anticipating a new addition to the family. But sometimes, heights are dangerous to be at. (HC fill; MC4A fill)


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

 **Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. In particular, this piece has an onscreen miscarriage. Please exercise understanding of personal boundaries before and during reading.

 **Author's Note (Generic Note for the** _ **Houses Competition**_ **):** All my works should be considered to be Not Epilogue Compliant and I treat everything that is not the HP books and the Hogwarts Library Collection as _apocrypha_ (supplementary to canon but still outside of it) and treat it as such (including ignoring it unless it suits me). I also make a policy of not ignoring abusive and distasteful actions/decisions of characters and not handwaving the effects of trauma experienced by characters. If you feel that a character isn't acting like their "canon self" chances are good that it's because of one of these two things and they are merely displaying a more realistic response than they did in canon. Such changes are not considered AU elements, and therefore do not have the same requirements.

 **Author's Note(s):** Just to clarify Harry & Hermione are _not_ the romantic relationship in this fic. Sorry, Harmony shippers, you only get zucchinis here.

 **Dedication:** to the Lady Justicia, who is blindfolded to ensure that all are the same before her and armed with the sword of Truth & Knowledge. May all remember that Your scales are tipped in favor of those to be judged, not in favor of those authorized to judge, and that Your sword smites those who use the authority entrusted to them to spit upon Your edict of impartiality.

 **Challenge/Competition Block** :  
 **Stacked with:** Houses Competition (Term 3); Shadows of Consequence; Paranormal Phantasm; Lesson Learned; Not Commonwealth; Terms of Service; By Any Other Name; Fem Power Challenge; Solemn Husbandry of Exultation; House MC (x2);  
 **House** : Hufflepuff  
 **Year:** 6th  
 **Category:** Additional (1047-2532 words)  
 **Prompt:** Preparing for a child (theme)  
 **Representation:** BC Use; Magic; Learning News; Hermione Granger; Aurors & Unspeakables; Zucchinis & Spouses; Hermione Granger  
 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Machismo (Fear); Second Verse (Not a Lamp; Ladylike - Intelligent; Non-Traditional; Found Family; Rediscovery; Middle Name; Nightingale; Tomorrow's Shade; Unwanted Advice; Zucchini Bread)  
 **Secondary Bonus Challenges:** n/a  
 **Word Count** : 1936

-= LP =-  
 **Love in Action**  
 _Love in Preparation_  
-= LP =-  
 _Love doesn't discriminate  
Between the sinners and the saints  
It takes and it takes and it takes  
_– Lin-Manuel Miranda, "Wait for It"  
-= LP =-

Hermione Granger felt like she was floating as she entered the café for her standing weekly 'date' with Harry. In the last few years, their lives had been growing extremely busy, and while they had the family style dinner every Saturday, they had still made it a point to meet every Wednesday for lunch. As the rising star of the Auror Corps, Harry tended to miss more often than Hermione did. Missions more often went awry than her research as an Unspeakable. She still grinned to see him at their table, back to the wall and waiting for her.

Nothing could ruin this day.

Without hesitation, Harry grinned back before her view of him was interrupted by the waitress delivering their usual order. Hermione unwrapped her scarf as she walked over, unbuttoning her coat as well. She had just draped both over the spare chair on her side when she was hit with the scent of the house dressing for her salad. Harry's grin disappeared as she gagged at the smell.

She bolted for the restroom, barely making it in time to vomit into the toilet instead of the floor. She wasn't surprised to feel a familiar hand rubbing her back. Exhausted from the wave of sickness, she rested her forehead on the cool seat of the toilet. The hand disappeared. One of the sinks ran for a few moments before shutting up. Then a moist paper towel was pressed against the back of her neck and the hand returned to rubbing her back.

"Did the Healer have any idea what was going on?" Harry asked, clearly worried. Gingerly, she nodded, which made her head begin to ache. She shifted to lean on the cleaner surface of his chest. With the ease of habit, he adjusted his hold and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Should I call Blaise to come get you?"

"No," she groaned, "I'll be fine in a few minutes. These things are apparently normal."

"It's not normal to puke your guts out several times a day, Hermione," Harry protested. His arms tightened around her. "That's why you were going to see a Healer in the first place! If the Healer knew what was going on, why didn't they fix it? Was it a curse? Should I call Bill or Fleur instead? We can fix this even if the Healers can't—or _won't_. You'd tell me if it's more of anti-Muggle-born sentiment, right?"

"You and Blaise are peas in a pod," Hermione complained, lightly smacking his chest next to her face. "Both of you are overprotective louts."

"Maybe we just both recognize how wonderful and precious you are," Harry countered. He gently flipped the paper towel so that the cool side was against her skin. "There are worse things to be than overprotective. You would tell me, though, wouldn't you? Not that I don't think you're capable of dealing with any situation yourself, but you don't need the added stress, not when you're sick or cursed."

"Oh, Harry," she breathed before lifting her head and raising her hands to cup his face. "I'm not sick or cursed. Really. I'm _fine_ and this is _normal_. I'm pregnant."

"Oh," Harry replied, sounding a bit lost as he actually met her eyes instead of looking at her nose like he usually did. He blinked several times as he processed the declaration. Then his forehead furrowed. "Does Blaise know?"

"I just came from the Healer's, Harry," she answered. Harry looked even more shocked at that declaration than the one of her pregnancy.

"Why are you here?! You know that I would have understood you going to tell him first! He's your husband, Hermione!"

"Oh, you silly—" She cut herself off to kiss the tip of his nose, just like she would Teddy. "I came because I knew you'd worry yourself into knots if I didn't, and husband or not, Blaise will not mind you knowing first. He knows what you mean to me." She gave him a grin, some of her previous euphoria returning. "Besides, we both know that it will take me at least three days to talk him out of trying to fortify the entire house like we were expecting an army of demons rather than a child."

"I'd help him," Harry declared. "We'll get it done in half the time, even less if Fleur is willing to help."

"Overprotective lout," Hermione admonished fondly. Harry gave her a crooked smile, completely unapologetic. God, she loved him so much. Tears suddenly began to fill her eyes. Harry's happy expression turned to one of horror. She fisted one hand in his shirt. "I'm fine. I'm just—you know I love you, right? You're just—" She gave a hiccuping sob. "You're _perfect_ , you know?"

"Yeah, uh, sure," Harry agreed. He shifted his hold to lift her into a bridal hold. "Let's get you back to your home. Public is not the place for you to be crying and Blaise is much better equipped to handle you crying."

She sniffled as she nodded, still unable to stop crying because of how happy she was. She had a perfect best friend and a wonderful husband, and she was going to have a _baby_. Teddy and Victoire would be thrilled to have a new cousin to spoil. Not that Victoire didn't already have a few, because the other Weasley children had been proving that they were just as fertile as their mother had been, but this would be the first baby since Victoire born to their Saturday night dinner group, the little family that Harry and she had built together in the wake of everything.

Six years since the end of the war and things were just about perfect.

Nothing could ruin this joy.

-= LP =-

Hermione carefully set her paintbrush down across the small jar of specialized paint. Rubbing her wrist to rub out the ache, she looked over her spellwork. Along all the edges of each wall (as well as the ceiling and floor), she had detailed runic symbols in her tiniest calligraphy. It had taken a larger portion of the last five months to both develop the spell and then transcribe it, but it would be worth it when Luna and Dean's artwork came to life exactly as planned.

And it would work exactly as planned, because everything was perfect.

It really, really was.

After her morning sickness had passed, it had been smooth sailing. As Hermione had predicted, Blaise had thrown himself into upgrading the wards around their Ashford home; as he had promised, Harry had helped along with both Bill and Fleur. Between the four of them—all ward specialists in their own ways—the house was indeed fortified against anything short of _maybe_ a nuke. The combined efforts of Bill and Harry had led to the majority of the wards from Grimmauld Place being recreated. It made Hermione twitch with the need to analyze their work because all her co-workers had been certain that the knowledge of how to make the Black specialty wards had been lost when Andromeda had succumbed to bond-loss after the war. Apparently, she had found a way to preserve the information for future generations, a legacy of a once-great House protected for the last few descendants of said family. Harry had promised to share it all with her, but only after the baby was born.

Hermione smiled to herself. Her hands drifted to her rounded stomach, rubbing the bump to soothe the movements of the fetus it contained. In just a couple months, she would be welcoming her first child. She couldn't wait to meet them, her little Estelle. She glanced around the nursery that her family and herself had prepared. Her smile grew.

"You are already so loved, my star," she said, speaking to her unborn child. Carefully, she began the struggle to stand. Without touching the painted wall and risk accidentally smearing her drying inscription, the already-difficult task was made harder. She unbalanced and fell the few inches she had managed to gain. A flash of pain, there and gone, went through her abdomen as the inertia jostled her precious cargo. "Oh, darling, I may love you dearly, but I will be happy when I can pass you off to your father on occasion."

"Conspiring with our daughter already, my love?" Blaise was already reaching down to help her up. Grateful for the help, she grasped his forearms and let him provide both balance and leverage. He pulled her in for a brief kiss once she was on her feet. "Sharing the secrets of how to make the general public gasp at the sheer audacity of a happily-married woman daring to keep her own family name?"

"Well, someone must," Hermione grouched, playing along with the banter. Her back ached slightly from her fall, even though it had only been a few inches. She stretched, hoping that she could remove the tension. "The general public certainly isn't going to shock itself, now is it?"

"Then we must strive to give them opportunities," Blaise agreed readily. Without needing to be asked, he began rubbing the small of her back. She groaned and leaned back into the massage. He buried his nose in her curls and breathed deep. "Did you succeed in finishing like you thought you would?"

"Yes—do you remember how to activate them?" All she got in response was a hum.

Then she saw Blaise's free hand reaching out to touch the nearest dry sigil. A spark of magic transferred between the wizard and the wall. The spark became a glow that spread in a chain reaction throughout all the lines of symbols in the room. Soon all of them were alight with a pale purple light. The light brightened sharply before sinking into the inscribed spell. For a moment, there was no reaction beyond the glow disappearing and taking her inscription with it.

Then the painted leaves of the forest scene in front of her moved as if in an unfelt breeze.

Hungry for proof of her success, Hermione stepped away from her husband to scan all the walls for movement. In addition to the leaves of the forest, there were swirls of sand funnels dancing across the dunes of the desert scene and waving flowers in the meadow scene. The schools of fish in the underwater scene were moving hypnotically between bright reef shelves of coral. Her eyes moved from one wall to the next, drinking in the details that Luna and Dean had created to delight her child.

Oh, it was absolutely perfect.

Agony cut across her stomach. Following an instinct older than modern human, she curled around the source of the pain. Familiar hands grabbed hold of her as her knees buckled. She was not really aware of the descent because the pain momentarily muffled all other senses. When the haze cleared, she was kneeling in the middle of the floor and leaning heavily on Blaise. Distantly, she heard him frantically praying in Italian, pleading with the goddess for all to be well.

The edges of her vision were darkening as if burning away. Blaise shifted her in his arms, and suddenly, Hermione could see the ceiling with its night sky full of stars. As the blackness covered the last of her vision, she had a single thought that would do nothing to ease the emptiness in her heart when she next woke.

 _It was going to be perfect, my star, absolutely perfect_.

-= LP =-  
An Ending  
-= LP =-


End file.
